


The Promise

by chasingthenight



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Human Trafficking, I have no idea what I'm doing, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7578835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingthenight/pseuds/chasingthenight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before they walked away Kihyun closed his eyes and whispered a prayer that was a promise he felt deep in his soul: I’ll come back for you, Changkyun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MinSeulgi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinSeulgi/gifts).



> This fic is part of a 30-day writing challenge I'm doing where the first line of the story is the last line of a book I own, which is chosen at random or through a strategic, random selection process (a.k.a asking my friends to pick numbers). This fic's opening line is derived from "Betrayed" by P.C. Cast & Kristin Cast.
> 
> Also, this is my first fic in, like, forever. Literally. And it's my first fic on AO3..... and it's probably shit because I don't know what I'm doing and it's been so long, but I don't care. I'm writing again and it makes me happy. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Before they walked away Kihyun closed his eyes and whispered a prayer that was a promise he felt deep in his soul.

_ I’ll come back for you, Changkyun.  _

* * *

Kihyun will never forget the broken look on the young boy’s face, the way his hands pressed to the frosty window and fingers clawed at the frame, when they’d dragged him away.  It had made Kihyun angry at the time because he had been warning Changkyun from the first day that this would happen and that he shouldn’t fight it when it does; that they’d see each other again eventually. Everyone has their time, but Kihyun’s time would come first and Changkyun shouldn't fight no matter how badly he wants to.

He was older and Changkyun wasn’t ready yet; he had a lot to learn and was still oh-so disobedient. They didn’t tolerate disobedience and certainly wouldn’t send anyone off if they couldn’t behave. But Kihyun, he’d been with them for years at that point-- nine to be exact, they’d kidnapped him from a park when he was just barely a toddler-- and he was ready for bigger and supposedly better things. Leaving Changkyun behind was not his choice, they both know that, but he’ll still never forget that face, nor will he forget the guilt because it eats at him every waking moment of every day. He sees his face in his dreams, in his nightmares and in the shadows when he can’t sleep; he sees him in the young kids he’s met and helped care for over the years, the ones he’s had to leave behind just the same; he sees him behind tightly closed eyes when he’s being forced down and fucked by someone who doesn’t care that he’s human, that he can be broken. 

That was nearly seven years ago and despite his persistent effort, despite risking his life and possibly Changkyun’s, Kihyun hasn’t been able to keep his promise. Seven years and no sight or sign of the boy he’d left in the hands of monsters, and now he’s not even sure if Changkyun is still alive, much less in the same country. Changkyun had been stubborn from the day they brought him in and Kihyun doesn’t doubt he’d caused trouble when he left, and when someone causes more trouble than it’s worth they become disposable. It’s a fate Kihyun hopes Changkyun hasn’t met. He can hope all he wants, but he knows better than to cling to it. There’s no time for things like hope. But Kihyun is stubborn and if there’s anything he’s learned in his years of enslavement, it’s that one should never break a promise. 

For the past seven years, after being bought out of the trafficking ring he’d been in since he was six-years-old, Kihyun has bounced from hand to hand, sold from one family to the next when he was no longer required or when his so-called owners found something or someone better. He’d lost count of the number of exchanges and eventually learned that he shouldn’t get comfortable anywhere because he’ll be gone in no more than four months. His last exchange had been almost two years ago and despite knowing that he could be here to stay, Kihyun hasn’t bothered making this place anymore homely than it has to be. 

The brothel he works in now isn’t too small nor too big. It’s clean, heated in the winter and cooled in the summer, they get three full meals every day, and he doesn’t have to share a space with anyone for any reason. Kihyun has his own room on the first floor of the building and it might be small, but he doesn’t need much room when he’s not in there for longer than he needs to be; when clients are gone and he’s relieved of his duties, the room ceases to exist to him. His bedroom is on the third floor of the same building and is small in the same manner, enough for a bed and dresser and a small desk. It’s enough for someone who doesn’t have much of anything, for someone who can fit everything they own into one suitcase. 

Perhaps the thing that Kihyun loves the most about the brothel, however, is the freedom that can be earned. Sure, they might own him, but he’s not confined to either of his rooms, not anymore. He’d earned his freedom just a few short months after arriving-- they trusted him and his previous owners had sent him off with high regards-- so when his services aren’t required, he’s allowed to roam the streets and explore and shop with the little allowance they give him every two weeks. And it’s absolutely glorious.  

Most days, days like today where the sun shines but it's not too hot on his skin, Kihyun pokes around the Red Light district, collecting information on employees and asking about the boy he’d left behind. In this line of business, someone should know him, should have seen him-- if he's still alive. Of course, Kihyun never gets far. All he knows aside from his name is how old Changkyun would be now and where he’d started out-- not his height or hair color or anything else that might distinguish him from everyone else-- but even that is too vague to get him anywhere. So he leaves empty handed and disappointed. Again. 

With a heavy heart, Kihyun gives up his efforts for the day. It’s late, approaching late evening, and he’s tired, fatigued from wandering through the city all day on an empty stomach after having not eaten the night before. He figures he'll have better luck finding something that'll settle the hunger than searching for someone who might no longer exist. So he meanders until he finds something that doesn't make him feel sick just thinking about it, which just happens to be a restaurant he's been meaning to try but hasn't had the chance to until now. He figures he has time and a little extra cash on him, so why not. 

Kihyun slips inside and finds an empty table and begins reading over the menu while he waits. It’s busy and even if it weren’t, he still wouldn’t complain when five minutes pass and he hasn’t been helped; he understands that people are busy, that shit happens. Besides, it gives him more time to look over his options and make a decision. He's engrossed in reading one of the inner pages, debating between two different dishes that sound just as good as the other, when his server approaches and if not for the greeting Kihyun would have remained oblivious. 

“Excuse me. My name is Changkyun and I'll be your server this evening. What can I get for you?”

Time stops. Kihyun stills, fingers fumbling with his menu, and his blood runs cold and, suddenly, he’s not hungry anymore. For a moment, his memory flashes back to the day he’d left, the boy clamoring at the window; to the days he and the little boy had spent in each other’s company, patching each other up after a lesson gone wrong; to the nights spent with the boy curled up against his chest, terrified out of his wits. He can almost feel the warmth now, the too infrequent smiles, the small fingers that would curl into his own, and it has his chest tightening like a vice around his lungs. And he can’t breathe. 

What are the chances? What are the fucking chances? Kihyun passes this restaurant at least once every day, two or three times when he’s out gathering information, and he’s walked by four times today alone. Has he really been under his nose this whole time, just a ten minute walk from where he works and lives, from where he’s been for the past two years? Changkyun isn’t a name he hears often, it’s not a popular name.. So what are the chances?

As much as he doesn’t want to, Kihyun forces himself to look up and when he does his heart stutters and nearly stops. The world falls away around him and the chatter between patrons fades to little more than a dull hum as Kihyun begins to recognize and note the familiar features of an old friend. He’s older, though his baby features still cling to his cheeks and his eyes are as tired as they always had been, but it’s unmistakably him. 

“Changkyun.” Kihyun’s voice is no more than a trembling whisper, but it’s loud enough, surprised enough to earn the male’s undivided attention. 

Kihyun isn’t sure what to expect. It’s been seven years, and for all he knows Changkyun won’t recognize him-- Changkyun could think he’s dead. For a moment, Kihyun stares up at the boy as he stares back, appearing confused by the shock and awe that Kihyun wears on his features, but then the realization slowly sets in and his eyes widen. It’s a shocked expression that quickly shifts to terror and fear and suddenly everything’s moving too fast. Changkyun turns away and takes several steps before whipping back around and bearing down on Kihyun.

“You need to leave.” His expression is set in something akin to anger, something that Kihyun had never seen on the boy, something he doesn’t know how to read even now.

“Chang--”

“You need to leave. Now.” Despite the heavy occupancy of the restaurant and the people who turn to watch them, Changkyun grabs him by the sleeve of his shirt and yanks him out of his seat. He doesn’t stop there, though, tugging Kihyun through the room and out the front door where he shoves him out onto the sidewalk where he doesn’t bother to apologize when Kihyun stumbles and nearly falls-- and when he speaks his voice shakes and Kihyun knows he’s trying so hard to maintain composure. “Go, and don’t come back. Don’t ever come back.”


End file.
